


P4M-771

by thesilverarrow



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, pre-OT4 if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/thesilverarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Because, holy hell, they're warrior-married now. Or whatever.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	P4M-771

"It's not funny," John says.

Of course, he knows it is – somewhere in the rational part of his brain. It's beautifully ridiculous, actually. He just wishes he'd been told beforehand.

"I don't like it any better than you do," Ronon replies, but the warmth that comes into his eyes, like he's threatening a sly smile, says otherwise.

Rodney, apparently more worried about the dead fuel cell in his hands than their interpersonal crisis, doesn't even raise his head as he mutters, "It's not like it means anything."

"Of course it means something," Teyla replies.

Because, holy hell, they're warrior-married now. Or whatever.

Still, John protests: "But we're not—"

"To them," she adds, holding up a hand to cut him off. "It means something to them. We should endeavor to figure out what."

Ronon is now looking a bit less amused, a bit more wary.

He says, "It seemed necessary, anyway."

John mutters, "Let's hope they don't expect us to consummate anything."

When Rodney's head snaps up, his eyes wide, Ronon suddenly looks a bit nervous.

Teyla just uses on her most calming tones: "There are many ways to consummate a relationship."

Of course, there's a trace of a smirk in her expression, which he finds oddly comforting. Nevertheless, he grouses:

"Well, if Rodney doesn't get the 'jumper up and running soon, it'll be a ritual bloodletting."

The tone is as overdramatic as he could've feared. It actually kind of takes the sting out of it.

Still, he glances at Ronon, hoping to find a similar frustration, but Ronon just drops down in the chair beside Rodney's.

"I could be into that," Ronon says nonchalantly, the sly smile finally taking over.

"Of course," Rodney says with a snort. Then he frowns to himself and says, "But it's not nearly as sexy as you think."

"How the hell would you know?" John asks, if only to keep from thinking about Ronon, the easy way he's lying back in the chair, the easy way he's accepted being someone's…

"Relax, Colonel," Rodney replies. "I'm not all that kinky." He's looking at Ronon, conspiratorial in a way that makes him nervous. "It's just that I'm perfectly capable of indulging people who are."

*

It takes a little finesse, but they eventually get a more precise account of the ritual's meaning. It's not exactly a marriage, but it's not exactly not, either. Apparently, the ceremony doesn't serve as an outward symbol of one's feelings so much as a public promise.

"Of what?" Rodney asks.

"I just said."

"No," he replies, slamming shut the cargo door on the jumper. "You just said something hilariously solemn about, and I quote, 'vigilant care.' Which is just…"

"Apparently, this marriage thing is not so much passion as duty. We agreed to, I don't know, be each other's partner or something. He laughs, I laugh; he cries, I cry. That sort of thing."

"Like, brotherly?"

That's when John hears footsteps coming up behind him, and he knows those footsteps, probably like he knows the look of Ronon's long, long legs striding closer and closer. There's such a presence to the man, even when he doesn't say a goddamn word.

"Romantic, I think," Ronon says, passing Rodney a pack of local goods. "Without being sexual." He shrugs and says, "Anyway, just gotta let it play out that way for one evening."

Rodney frowns and says, "Surely they don't expect you to adhere to their customs."

"It's more than custom," Ronon replies. 

He looks at John, then, and although he's trying for warm and casual, all John sees in his dark eyes is a weary desperation, something he normally keeps very well hidden.

He says, "I'm headed back."

"We'll catch up to you," John replies.

After Ronon's out of earshot, Rodney says, "Okay, what?"

"Hmm?"

"More than custom?"

John can see he's not going to let it go. It's just like Rodney to actually pay attention to interpersonal shit when John would least like him to. 

So John replies, "They believe we're warriors. I guess…because we are? Their warriors take this particular ceremony seriously. If we don't…"

"They'll think you're not real warriors."

John just nods. Rodney contemplates for a moment.

"But we've completed the trade, more or less. Why does it matter?"

"It matters to Ronon," John replies. 

He doesn't have to say it matters to him, too. Rodney must know, because he gives him an indulgent grin and, miracle of miracles, doesn't ask him a single fucking thing more about it.

*

Luckily, nobody has to braid flowers into their hair or anything. Teyla says that from what she can tell, the signs of this so-called vigilant care are less in attire or accessories or marking up, and more in simple body language. So as John catches up to Ronon, falls into step beside him, he does what Teyla suggests: he reaches out and takes his hand. 

He can't remember the last time he held anyone's hand for no reason at all, especially not another man. It's awkward as hell, and while he's sure it's supposed to be soothing or something, it actually just makes him jittery.

"This is stupid, you know," Ronon says after a moment.

He's not taking his hand back, though, so John just swallows heavy and tries to go for casual.

"Hmm?" he replies, not looking at him.

Ronon says, "I don't know if I trust a warrior culture that thinks it's a good plan to leave us both one-handed."

"At least you've got your dominant hand free," John grouses.

After a moment, he feels Ronon let go and fall behind him a bit. He's about to protest when he realizes what Ronon's doing – about the time Ronon steps up on his other side, his right hand slipping into John's left.

"Stupid of me," Ronon murmurs. "You draw right."

"I'm the one that put us that way. And so do you."

"I can draw my sword left."

John sees that Ronon's shifted his sword strap to fall across his other shoulder way.

"Prove it," Rodney says, from somewhere behind them.

Ronon's hand gropes a little longer than normal to find the blade, but when he pulls it free, he wields it with just as much confidence as he would right-handed. John normally finds that really, really annoying, but this time he just grins.

But up ahead of them, Teyla's calling back, "He doesn't need to prove it."

"No?" Rodney says. 

She turns and begins walking backward as she speaks. "That's one of the reasons hand-holding is considered an especially strong sign of partnering. You trust each other enough to depend on working together, using one pair of hands to defend you both."

John looks at Ronon, who raises an eyebrow at him. 

John says, "Hey, Teyla. Why don't you come at us, then."

Now he has an eyebrow conversation with her, but she soon gets this twinkle in her eye.

"If you insist."

They're as ready as they can be, but she still manages to get Ronon's feet out from under him. To be fair, it's less because he's drawing left than he's attached to John. Thankfully, John manages to stop her with his free hand and then catch her up in their joined arms. He draws her back against his chest, where Ronon, getting to his feet again, wraps his free hand around her throat, just long enough to make his point. 

"Thank you, husband," Ronon says with a grin.

"Anytime, dear," John replies, feeling something warm and heavy settle into his belly.


End file.
